


Those Things are Called Wings

by Pull



Series: Bird Encyclopedia [1]
Category: Gattaca (1997)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Wings, Basically everyone has wings, Gen, Only Vincent can see them
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-29
Updated: 2019-07-29
Packaged: 2020-07-26 13:21:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20026873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pull/pseuds/Pull
Summary: Vincent could see wings....An alternate universe where everyone has wings and Vincent is the only one who can see them.





	Those Things are Called Wings

When one thought about it, people should have stopped tampering with their genetic code long, long ago. When it was still disease prevention. When it was only to save a life, not making humans as perfect as possible and they ended up losing the most important aspect which made up who they were—humanity.

Maybe Mother Nature didn't want to be changed. Maybe she loved her children equally no matter who they are, what they look like, what they can do, and what their abilities are. Maybe Mother Nature didn't want to be denied. Maybe she was gazing down sadly on her children as they turned their back on her one by one. Maybe she was angry that humans had become perfidious.

They should have stopped. But they didn't. Now they had come so far it was too late to stop.

Humans had evolved beyond control. Even without the evolution, they were already the most dominating species on the planet. It was about time nature evolved too.

Vincent was a faith born. His gene was so messed up they evolved on their own. Maybe it was a genetic mutation, his delusion, or maybe it was something else. But he had one thing the others didn't.

He could see wings.

* * *

It sounded irrelevant—useless even—but wings didn't lie as people did. They hid nothing. They were practically the window to a man's soul.

Everyone has one. It was as real and transparent as the tiny particle you see in the air as you gaze up into the sun. Vincent couldn't touch it, but there were times when the feather brushed softly against his skin.

His mother's wings were the first one he saw. His five-year-old self giggled when his mother hugged him, white flawless wings wrapped protectively around his form. They were soft and smooth under his fingers as she whispered "I love you," into his ears.

"You looked like an angel, mom," he whispered back, giving her a huge smile with his front tooth missing. "You have the whitest wings, like an angel."

She chuckled. Because of course, a five-year-old child has a mind full of imagination no one could comprehend. She smiled at him and didn't think he was crazy at all.

His father had a pair of brown wings. A bit light near the joints though they got darker as it reached the tip. Vincent looked it up through his thick encyclopedia of birds that he insisted on having on his tenth birthday. It was hard—there were so many of them—but if he had to put a name, he would say that they were Harris Hawk's wings.

Anton's wings were easier. They were a dominant pitch of black, a total opposite of his mother's. There was unnerved beauty on them nonetheless—an engineered human always has beautiful wings. They were elegant. The feathers seemed to sparkle under the sun, reflecting the lights to Vincent's eyes as they whispered the perfection he could never have. He didn't dare to look at them for too long.

He slapped a crow under his brother's name, not bothering to check if there is another bird with flawless black wings. After all, it fitted.

His own was very large as he stared at his reflection on the mirror. He felt like he could wrap the whole planet with them. It was even bigger than Anton's and any other wings he had ever seen. His wings were the biggest. He felt like he could fly with them, soaring through the sky and reaching the stars, proving everyone that he could do the impossible.

They were dark brown, much like his father's but even darker. At some point, they looked more into black than brown. He would say that his wings were a bald eagle's. He was proud. He was happy. He didn't need to check thoroughly with his encyclopedia because he knew he was right. Every piece fell perfectly into their own spaces.

Vincent never talked about wings to his father and brother. Only to his mother. And he never got tired of reminding her how she resembled a lot like a real angel. She always smiled at that.

* * *

Eugene was right. His eyes were prettier. Hell, it was the most beautiful splash of colors Vincent had ever seen in his life. And they fitted perfectly with his Blue Jay's wings, making him the most beautiful creature who had ever walked on the surface of the earth. Well, more like wheeled now.

They weren't the most beautiful wings Vincent had ever seen in his life. But they were Eugene's and that simple fact was enough for him.

Vincent dug out his heavy, thick, bird encyclopedia when he got nothing to do except waiting for his legs to recover. He told himself that he did it so he could understand the person who he was supposed to imitate better, not because he was fascinated by said person. Although the mere idea of a big bald eagle imitating a small blue jay was ridiculous no matter how one put it.

Eugene was experimenting with the lab tools. He seemed like a child being curious about his new toys—except that no parents would ever give their child a syringe as a toy to stab himself experimentally with. His genius was transparent. Vincent swore only half an hour ago, Eugene was reading a medical book about making a blood bag. And now he was doing it. Successfully. On the first try.

Vincent's mouth tugged slightly upwards as he watched Eugene's small triumph when the other man threw the blood bag into the medical refrigerator, the blue wings flapped excitedly behind him. Their relationship wasn't in the stage where they could accept each other fully yet, though it must happen soon if they want to make this work. Blue Jay is very territorial. It reflected on how close off Eugene is. He was still protective of his own identity and couldn't accept that Vincent is going to literally replace him.

So it came out as a slight surprise when Eugene turned over and started wheeling towards him. 

"I thought you are practicing your handwriting," he commented, eyes roaming curiously at the thick book. The scrap of paper which was full of signature that Vincent tried to imitate is pushed to the side. Eugene leaned in close, "What's that book?"

"It's a bird encyclopedia," Vincent answered. He paused for a moment before he added. "I've finished your signature, by the way."

Eugene frowned, peeking over to the paper. "You're terrible," he scoffed though Vincent couldn't detect any heat in his voice.

Vincent made an off comment that sounded a bit dismissive. Eugene made no move to wheeled away.

"So you're obsessive of birds?" He asked.

"What makes you say that?" Vincent asked back.

"No one has a book this thick about birds unless he is obsessed with them. And I'm not obsessed with birds, by the way. An early warning if you somehow decide to bring that book to Gattaca."

Vincent hummed. "Duly noted. Thanks."

And the conversation was supposed to end at that because Eugene was wheeling himself away. But it didn't. Because somehow Vincent was titling his book to Eugene, pointing his finger to the biggest Blue Jay picture on the page.

"This is you, by the way," he said casually. Eugene stopped, turned over, looked at the picture, and stared at him. The look Eugene gave him was unreadable. Vincent couldn't put a name to it. It was a mixture of curiosity, questioning, offended, contemplating, and many other things. But he didn't look at Vincent as if he was crazy.

In the end, Eugene smirked. "I like that blue. You're right. That's me."

* * *

When wings moved to wrap around the person's body, it could mean so many things.

It could mean shame, loneliness, insecurity, touch starved, or a mere response to the cold. The fact that Eugene's wings had done this so often in their moderate temperature home worried Vincent a lot.

The first time it happened, it was when Eugene almost provided him with a faulty urine sample for his first Gattaca interview as Jerome. He was so angry back then because Eugene didn't take this seriously. He raised his voice—almost screamed—and he could feel his wings flapped angrily behind him. They stretched up high and wide, big and intimidating. Eugene went silent.

"I'm sorry," he said softly and looked down, eyes refusing to meet Vincent's enrage gaze. His much smaller wings moved slowly to wrap around his form protectively. He didn't sound like he was sorry at all, but his wings had spoken enough for him.

Vincent took a deep breath, willing his anger to go away. His heart was beating too fast in his chest. He sighed. His wings went down but still stretched wide behind him. Not as intimidating as before, but due to their huge size, they still looked scary—if one could see them, that’s it. 

"Listen, it's not too late to back out," he said slowly, eyes staring intently at Eugene. He almost wanted to say _Look at me_ but decided against it. Eugene looked miserable enough. "This is the last day that you're going to be you, and I'm going to be me." he continued.

Eugene, of course, didn't answer. Still refusing to meet his gaze. His wings wrapped even tighter around his body.

"Well?" Vincent prompted then decided it was enough. He knew Eugene wouldn't give him an answer—a straight one anyway. He left before the other man could come up with a reply.

"Sorry." Vincent heard it whispered so low behind him. He didn't look back.

**Author's Note:**

> So far, these are the character's wings :  
Vincent : Bald Eagle  
Eugene : Blue Jay  
Anton : Crow  
Vincent's mother : White Dove  
Vincent's father : Harris Hawk


End file.
